As morning sunlight kissed his face, the operative from the West awoke on a musty bed in room number two. He took a few deep breaths, each one highlighting the sting of his many wounds, as he mustered all his strength to prop up his upper body.
Then he noticed a few items on the bedside table: a piece of parchment, some cakes, and a gold coin.
The operative reached for the parchment and read the neatly inscribed message:
[Dear Mr. Operative,
Please forgive my intrusion of searching you while verifying your identity. An old man's nature inclines towards suspicion, as I'm sure you'll understand.
The family crest on your person confirmed who you are, so I will honor my promise to assist you in every possible way.
The gold coin and provisions I’ve left should tide you over these tough times.
Today is my investiture as Viscount. Once my business in the capital is concluded, I shall return to the Reed Viscounty. You may disguise yourself as my coachman, and we'll travel together back to my land before you return to the West.
Should you disagree with my plan, feel free to take the provisions and gold coin and leave the inn at once.
P.S.: The innkeeper seems keen on finding the miscreant who broke the third room’s lock, so best stay out of sight.
Your everlasting friend of the West, Seth Reed]
In the quiet of the room, tears dropped onto the parchment, blurring the ink. His hand clutching at his belly, the operative winced, "Ouch... it hurts."
Minutes later, after reapplying the remaining herbs to his torn wounds exacerbated by movement, he decided to accept Seth's proposal. The capital's seemingly lax yet underlying strict control made any rash action risky. Seth's sincere demeanor convinced him that cooperation was the better bet.
---
Meanwhile, a modest ceremony was underway at the palace a few leagues away. Given Seth's peripheral kinship and senior age, this scarcely publicized event boasted few guests—just some nobles with time to spare and the obligatory record keeper.
Seth was rather pleased; fewer eyes meant less stress. He was eager for the ceremony to end, to return to the Reed castle, burn the portraits of his predecessor, his father, and grandfather, and hang only those of his own father and himself. Having fulfilled his lifelong dreams, even an immediate death would content him.
The ceremony, more akin to a teatime gathering than a nobility affair, reached its climax amidst Seth's anticipation. The king of Heracles Human Kingdom, wearing a majestic golden crown and holding a mace symbolizing formidable power, stepped into the auditorium's center.
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The murmurs halted as everyone watched the elderly gentleman Seth, dressed in ceremonial attire and bearing a knight's sword, approach the king with measured steps. Kneeling on one knee, he presented his sword with both hands.
Seth robustly recited the Knight's Oath he had crammed from the ceremonial officer:
“I swear to treat the weak gently;
I vow to confront tyranny bravely;
I swear to fight against all wrongs;
I vow to battle for the unarmed;
I swear to assist any who seek my help;
I vow never to harm any woman;
I swear to aid my fellow knights;
I swear to treat my friends with sincerity;
I vow eternal fidelity to those I hold dear."
With the oath concluded, the king expressionlessly tapped Seth’s shoulders in acknowledgment of his fealty.
"Arise, my knight. Awake from your nightmare and fight to eradicate the demons from this land, for the lofty ideals of humanity," the king intoned, looking down at Seth.
"Your wish is my will, Your Majesty," Seth replied with a clarity he never felt before.
In the corner, the record keeper documented the event: On the 25th of July, year 882 of Pioneering History, King Leopold Heracles ennobled Seth Reed as his valiant and loyal knight at the capital's Auditorium, with lands located in the Southwestern Reed Viscounty.
The young nobles below exchanged glances—some encouraging, others whispering, hoping to befriend this newly minted noble of their same rank.
Seth was overcome with elation, but amid the king's august voice, the young nobles' chatter, and the recorder's scratching of quill on paper, a strange cry intruded.
---
"Seth sir, wake up, Mr. Seth!" the capitol operative, now in a servant's guise, shook Seth’s arm trying to rouse him from his stupor.
Confused, Seth awakened in the ceremonial hall's anteroom, asking the anxious young spy, "Where am I?"
"We're in the anteroom of the Auditorium, your investiture begins in a quarter hour. You stayed up late helping me and must've grown weary," the operative said guiltily.
"Leave me be, I'm quite awake now," Seth reassured him before pondering the vividness of his recent dream, wondering how the upcoming ceremony would unfold.
Separated from the anteroom by a mere wall, in a hidden chamber, an old man with a somber face and wrinkled brow slowly opened his eyes, his expression easing slightly.
A man of an age that could allow kings and viscounts to call themselves youngsters in his presence.
He stood up, donning a grey robe, then stepped to a wall and pressed a concealed switch. As the faint sounds of mechanics filled the air, he emerged discreetly from behind the wall and moved towards the king's private chamber.
Without knocking, the elder entered the king's rest area, spying LeopoldYour Majesty leaning back in a tall chair, gazing from his window at the bustling streets below.
"Melrose, how did it fare?" the king asked without movement, as though the words hadn't come from his lips.
"Exceedingly well, Your Majesty. I have not seen one so resolute even in dreams. His actions were indistinguishable from his real-life bearing. Surely he will be your most loyal vassal," the old man chuckled, the many lines on his face echoing the laughter.
"It seems he's indeed a vast improvement on his cousin," the king's tone softened somewhat.
"Yes, I believe he'll make an exemplary vanguard officer for the kingdom’s offensive forces, provided he lives another nine years," Melrose said with a smile.
"Such an endorsement from you suggests he's dependable," the king replied, emotionless, "You should rest now, sir."
"At once," Melrose bowed and exited.
Entering his own quarters within the palace, Melrose dropped his grey robe casually onto the floor and ascended to his principal seat.
Clapping his hands, a dark figure coalesced beside him, swiftly shaping into a young man's silhouette. "What is your bidding, teacher?"
"Remember the viscount from today’s ceremony. Make sure he perishes a month after returning to his territory."
"Understood," the disciple returned to shadow, merging once more with the darkness of the room.